


The Death Of A Bachelor

by dollcewrites



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, current arc spoilers, have ur heart broken in only 3k words for the bargain price of $0.00, whole cake island/totland arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:50:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7365973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollcewrites/pseuds/dollcewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Promise me. Promise me that you’ll become the greatest swordsman.” A cough rattles Sanji's sentence, breaking it for a moment. “And promise that you’ll make Luffy the Pirate King. And promise that you’ll look after the crew.”<br/>“Sanji—”<br/>“Promise.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Death Of A Bachelor

**Author's Note:**

> after thinking to myself "If I were to write a fic where Sanji straight-up dies, would anyone be interested in reading it?" I asked people on twitter, and, yeah, there are enough people who love dark content like this.  
> If I'm honest, I get destroyed by stuff like this, but I've also developed a taste for it. I really wanted to explore this idea for my own enjoyment, I guess. AS IT TURNS OUT, I CRIED TWICE WHILE WRITING IT, SO WHO REALLY KNOWS IF I ENJOYED IT?  
> If you like this kind of very emotional, depressing, melancholic stuff—enjoy.  
> If not, please don't read this and make yourself sad!! It is not a happy fic (although, it has a positive-as-can-be end) and I want to make that clear before ya'll start reading it.

Zoro is lost.  
  
A growl threatens to rip through his throat and he tightens his grip on Wadō, his knuckles whitening. His heartbeat jumps in between his ribs and his blood rushes through his ears.

_For once, could I not be lost._

_Just this once._

He can’t remember which way he saw Nami’s form disappear, and no cracks of lightning give her away. She had been his last link to the battle, the rest of his nakama on this god-forsaken, sugar coated island having split up with them a day before.

In the distance—though seemingly from every direction—the noise of combat can be heard. The shrieks and yells, the eruptions, the slamming and crumbling of the island’s structures. From where Zoro stands, the iron ringing from the meeting of swords sounds like a windchime.

With a slash of his katana, the wall blocking him into a dead end explodes in a shower of gingerbread shrapnel.

This place will be the fuel of nightmares, he’s sure.

He’s always hated sweets, though he’s not sure the need to wretch that rises from his gut stems from that. The blood in his body sings with desperation, and Sandai Kitetsu sings in its sheath for blood. Something presses down on Zoro’s chest. It feels like time is sifting through his fingers, like a fuse is burning down to its end.

_He’ll be fine, he can take care of himself._

He repeats the words to himself; words he’s provided for his nakama before. A vow of his faith for their cook.

It feels, at this point, like he’s trying to convince himself.

_He’s strong. I have nothing to worry about._

Zoro kicks through another wall, this one thin, iced with pastel pink paint. It shatters easily. A rift opens into what looks like a dining hall.

_Luffy’s probably found him already._

The tables are white clothed and laden with decadent cakes and fresh glossed puddings, as if awaiting wedding guests to file in from a ceremony someplace else.

_Someone else has his back._

All the glasses look like the ones Sanji serves parfaits to the ladies in.

 _But_ I’m _supposed to have his back._

Zoro’s boots slap the floor as he runs through the room. He rams open double doors, heavy squares of lacquered wood the colour of honey, and bursts out into a hallway. His head snaps in both directions, searching left, searching right.

A scream twists the air.

Every hair on Zoro’s body stands on end. He feels like he should recognise it, but it sounds so _wrong._

His feet have already responded.

The floor is tiled in squares of black and white. Their shapes warp as he turns a rounded corner.  
  
He’s heard the clack of heels enough times to detect the sound of rapidly receding footsteps, but the unnatural clattering of something unidentifiable pulls him in the opposite direction. A thick, strangling cough reaches his ears.

He doesn’t remember carving through the door with Wadō, but it splits clean in half before him.

He steps into a nightmare.

It must be a dream within a dream, like the strange islands within Totland’s chain. It must be another surreality of this archipelago, something fabricated, something he will wake up and laugh at for all its absurdity.

A large contraption takes up his vision, like a human sized mouse trap, but with fangs like a javelin pit upside down. Its teeth are bars, stalactites decorated like candy-canes that have been sharpened to a point, ready to pierce raw gums.

But they’re clearly designed to pierce so much more flesh.

They have succeeded in their design.

Zoro sways. Nothing makes sense.

Rivers of blood, coloured like berry compote, drip languidly down the spires. The clattering Zoro heard must have been the sound of them falling back to the floor, a jaw letting go after it snaps down on its prey.

Zoro’s eyes fall to him.

He’s on his hands and knees.

Zoro can see the thick holes drilled through the flesh of his torso through his back, crimson welling up in them, tissue fresh and exposed where it isn’t. The holes are golf ball sized at least, corresponding to the trap's spikes, and a steady flow of blood is pooling out below him, fast and unhindered from his gaping wounds.

_It must be an illusion._

_A fake Sanji. A mirror image._

Zoro finds himself on his knees too.

_“Sanji!”_

His throat is hoarse from the volume he achieves, and yet his cry seems so far away. The knees of his pants are soaked already. When his palms hit the small flood on the floor, they splash.

_Sanji, Sanji, Sanji._

Vaguely, he realises he’s speaking aloud.

Sanji looks up at him.

Zoro knows right away it’s the real Sanji.

His hair looks wrongfully soft, feathering over his face. It’s clean, brushed.

Zoro supposes his suit would also have been recently as impeccable. The white, formal and fitted garment is now filled with holes and drenched in ruby red blood to match the rose in Sanji’s breast pocket.

His face is not clean.  
  
It’s painted with agony, fear and panic. The eyes Zoro knows so well are washed in the emotions so clear on his face, and they twist a knife in Zoro’s heart. Sanji’s dark circles are purpling bruises. Blood trickles from his mouth.

_“Zoro?”_

The rasp has barely escaped Sanji’s lips when he slips forward, elbows crumpling. Zoro scrambles to catch him. Any lesser man would have cried out in pain a second time, but Sanji simply coughs up more blood. Zoro carefully turns him over, cradling him in his arms like he’s about to shatter.

“I’m here, I’m here. It’s me.”

Sanji voice is a wavering whisper. A smile ghosts his lips. “I’m glad it’s you.”

Zoro’s hands are shaking. He raises one hand to cup Sanji’s jaw, the man’s head in his lap, blonde hair splayed out like a halo. The smell of copper is fresh and strong. Blood from his palm smears over Sanji’s cheek as Zoro’s thumb trembles over it. Time is stretching, everything too fast, everything so slow.

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true. I am.”

The skin of Sanji’s face has a deathly pallor, all colour draining from it rapidly.

“When you say it like that it sounds like I’m the last person you’ll see—”

Sanji’s eyelids flutter as he tries to fixate his gaze on Zoro, brows drawing together.

“—which I won’t be.” Zoro tries to make his words heavy, unmovable. “Chopper’s gonna be here any minute. He’ll fix you up.”

The soft smile still plays on Sanji’s lips, turning the corners of his mouth.

“Chopper’s a brilliant doctor, Zoro, but I don’t think there’s anything to be done about,” he sucks a wheezing breath in, “ _this_.”

“Who did this,” Zoro’s words hiss through his teeth. “You must have been lured here—without your guard up—”

Zoro remembers the sound of heels. “A woman?”

Sanji winces. “It must have been… a mistake.” He breathes out his words, looking far off, squinting. “She… I… not her fault.”

Zoro wants to rattle the truth from Sanji, but the cook’s too fragile to shake. Besides, he supposes the who or how doesn’t matter, now that it’s done. But he’ll find the person responsible for this, and tear them a new one; after Sanji is safe.

“Luffy’s kicking Big Mom’s ass right now.”

Sanji’s eyes close and Zoro’s body jolts in panic, like a blade of electricity has been inserted down his spine.

They open a moment later.

“That’s good.”

“So just hold on.” Zoro squeezes Sanji’s shoulder ever so slightly with the arm that cradles him. “Just hold on to me, please. You’re gonna be okay. You’re not gonna die.”

Sanji swallows. He looks back into Zoro’s eyes, gaze like a still blue ocean. He seems to be studying Zoro’s face, like he’s done many times before, when they were tangled under sheets, naked and entwined. But it’s different. There’s a sad savouring to his visual caress. It’s wrong. It’s like he’s taking in Zoro for the last time.

Something warm and wet runs down Zoro’s face and drips off the tip of his nose. He blinks something watery from his eyes so that he can see Sanji properly.

Sanji speaks again.

“I didn’t say ‘I do.’”

There are a few heartbeats of silence.

“What?”

Sanji smiles a little bit more.

“The wedding... I didn’t say ‘I do.’ I didn’t marry her.”

Zoro’s vision becomes drowned again, and blinking is futile.

“You think I give a shit about that, cook? Why’s it matter?”

He wishes Sanji would stop smiling like nothing is wrong, like there’s an inside joke Zoro isn’t getting.

“I couldn’t say yes. Not when I’m in love with you. All I could think about was you.”

A sob racks Zoro’s body.

_“Please don’t leave me.”_

It’s Sanji turn to reach up a trembling hand, touching the side of Zoro’s face.

“You take care of the girls now, you hear me? I’ll kick your ass if you don’t.” Sanji’s fingertips meet the wetness of Zoro’s tears. “This is where you say, _you couldn’t if you tried, cook._ ”

A shaky gasp like a laugh escapes Zoro, a hiccup of fear.

He wishes he could trade Sanji’s pain for his, like he did for Luffy two years ago on the other side of the Grand Line, far away from the New World.

“You can’t die. _You can’t die, Sanji.”_

“And why not?”

_A million reasons._

_I love you, for one._

“Who—who will cook for Nami and Robin? Who will make sure that Luffy doesn’t starve us all out there on the ocean? Who’s gonna cook for the Pirate King?”

“Like I said before—back then, with Kuma—you’ll have to find another cook. Tell everyone I’m sorry.”

 _How long does he have left? Minutes? Seconds?_  
  
_This isn’t how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to have a lifetime._

“Who’s going to find the All Blue?”

The blood on Zoro’s hand is cooling. The pool at his knees has expanded.

“Someone will. You’ll keep an eye out for it too, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

The promise leaves Zoro in a heave, and he regrets that it has, regrets that he’s accepting Sanji’s defeat like that.

He mends his words. “But you’ll be there with me.”

“Of course. You’ll feel me there, Zoro. You’ll know my joy.”

Zoro crushes his teeth in a lock of his jaw.

_Not like that, you bastard. I need you breathing by my side._

His voice is quiet when he opens his lips to speak.

“Who’s going to fill this tear in my heart?”  
  
The smile fades from Sanji then.

Zoro’s voice crawls with anger underneath. “Who’s going to fill the space—the other half of me?” It crashes like a wave and breaks, and he cowers over Sanji, bringing their faces closer, bowing his head, voice a shallow whisper.

_“How will I be whole without you?”_

Sanji moves, then, a shuddering breath tearing his lungs and throat, to look into Zoro’s eyes, so that their foreheads almost touch.

“Promise me you’ll be the greatest swordsman.”

“I—what?”

Sanji breath is ragged.

“Promise me. Promise me that you’ll become the greatest swordsman.” A cough rattles his sentence, breaking it for a moment. “And promise that you’ll make Luffy the Pirate King. And promise that you’ll look after the crew.”

“Sanji—”

“Promise.”

Wet welts trail down Zoro’s face. He pulls Sanji closer to his chest, blinking away the tears. His hand strokes the hair from Sanji’s face, tucking it behind his ear carefully.

“I promise.”

Sanji’s body goes lax then, caving into the full support of Zoro’s arms again.

His breath is not as sharp. It’s smaller. A wave of panic floods through Zoro’s veins.

“Sanji—”

“Yes?”

Breath quivers from Zoro’s lungs.

“God, this can’t be happening.”

“Zoro, people die all the time out here.”

“But not you,” Zoro whispers. His hand shakes where he touches his fingers to Sanji’s neck. “You can’t die. You aren’t supposed to die yet, you have a dream.”

Sanji’s eyes stay focused on him.

“You are my dream now, Zoro.”

Another sob wracks Zoro’s form. His other hand is slippery on Sanji’s side.

_“Sanji, don’t go.”_

“Remember what you promised.”

_“Sanji, please. God, please no. Don’t go.”_

Sanji’s body is stilled now. The shaking and shuddering has ceased. His breath is too quiet to hear.

“I know you’ll keep your promise.”

Zoro nods, tears flowing rampant down his cheekbones.  
  
_I will, I will._

His hand moves from Sanji’s neck to grip his hand. Their fingers intertwine, slick with blood. Zoro grips his hand fiercely.

Sanji’s eyes haven’t moved from his face.

“I love you, Roronoa Zoro.”

_“Sanji, please, please stay. I love you. I love you so much, Sanji. Please.”_

_You have to know how much I love you._

Zoro’s throat is constricted and thick. He blinks desperately to clear the tears away, to take in the image of the last smile of his lover. It’s faint and pleasant on the curve of his lips.

“I know.”

 

—

 

He remembers Sanji in all of his manifestations.

Nineteen and baby-faced, a suit hanging from his shoulders, caged in an obligation, growing up too fast. His fist around Fullbody’s neck, his hand delivering a plate of food to a starving pirate, his heel delivering a kick while he spun like a pinwheel. The way he snapped in Luffy’s face when he was included as a crew member in a headcount. The way tears flowed freely down his face, hands and knees on the ground, head bowed to a man who was like a father to him.

Nineteen but fleshing out, square shoulders, squaring jaw. A flaming kick blazing through his victims. An offer of his life for his captain’s; not the first time he’d thrown himself in the line of fire for one of his nakama. A plate of onigiri, mysterious in its apparition to the crow’s nest. A presence by his bedside, a voice asking Chopper if Zoro would be okay. A smile that rivaled the sun. Tips of blonde hair growing out, gold in the light.

Twenty-one and fresh, suddenly so much bigger—though still a centimeter below Zoro. His facial hair, his new brand of cologne. The same Sanji, the same fighting stance, same chivalry, same skill with food. Deeper voice, softer hands. Longer sighs of pleasure. Desperate kisses in the dark of the Sunny.

Twenty-one and fleeting. A smile, a promise, _I’ll be back._ A cigarette balanced in his teeth. Hands in his coat pockets. A family tree blooming from cemetery soil.

Twenty-one and a ghost. A number that stopped counting, a clock that stopped ticking. Twenty-one and bleeding out, twenty-one and cold, a smile on his lips, hair soft, blue-vein backed eyelids, still too young.

Twenty-one forever.

 

—

 

Luffy sits down beside him, making no more sound than a leaf does falling from a tree.

Their legs dangle from the side from the side of the Sunny.

They sit in silence, Luffy’s chin on his hands.

Eventually, Zoro asks.

“How did you manage?”

His voice seems foreign to himself. It’s been hiding in his chest for a while now—just over two months, he's counting—of near-silence shrouding him. The whole crew is subdued in this way.

Luffy stays looking out at the horizon, while Zoro traces the lines of his own palms with his eyes.

His captain knows who he’s talking about, it’s hung unspoken for a while now; Luffy already understands the pain of losing one so loved.

Ace and Sanji were both men they thought too strong to fall. Both men who they believed in to the ends of the world. Men who were snuffed out right before their eyes, too early, brightness short lived.

“You keep going.”

Zoro chest feels tight.

“I wanted him to go with me.” He feels selfish the moment the words leave his lips. Everyone wanted Sanji with them, of course.

“I know.”

They sit in silence some more.

“It never goes away, does it?”

The waves lap at the Sunny’s side.

“No, not really.” Wind ruffles Luffy’s hair. “But there’s something good in that. It might always be there but… the good stuff is too. Sanji’s still with us all. At least we have that, and we’ll never forget him.”

When Zoro says nothing, Luffy turns his head to the swordsman.

“He would want you to be happy.”

“Yeah.”

“And to live for both of you. And all of us.” Luffy smiles. “I know he would.”

“I know he would too.” Zoro chuckles a little then. “Always demanding too much of me, even now.”

Luffy’s voice drops back to his sombre, low tone.

“I know you’re strong enough, Zoro. He knew it too.”

Zoro looks over his captain’s face, alive and attentive, warm and familiar, and then he turns his gaze out to sea. It’s a perfect shade of blue, slightly desaturated from the cloud cover, light from the day. If he could swipe the colour, he could paint Sanji’s eyes.

“I will be strong enough... I promised. I’m just not strong enough right now. Not yet.”

Beside him, Luffy’s voice is quiet, an unusual tone.

“No one can be strong all the time.”

Zoro swallows.

“I know.”

Luffy shuffles back, and stands, stretching his arms out a little.

Zoro doesn’t turn to look at him.

“Thank you, Luffy.”

A hand rests on his shoulder for a moment, and then the sound of sandals trails away.

Luffy’s words play like a melody through his head as he watches the sun set.

_It never goes away, does it?_

This heaviness in his chest may lighten, but the space is unfillable.

_No, not really._

Sanji is a hole in his side, and yet still a hand pushing him forward.

Two promises now hang on Zoro’s dream. The weight on his back is doubled.

He remembers her face, too. Black eyes, black hair. Too young, so fierce.

In that, Kuina and Sanji were alike.

He owes them both his dream, his best efforts. It’s a weight he is proud to shoulder.

_And yet, a weight I shouldn’t have to bear._

The sun has long sunken under the horizon when the cool night air chills Zoro’s skin.

He can feel a part of Sanji beside him.

He can still smell the cigarette smoke.

No matter where they go, how strong the wind is, how salt filled their air is: The smell of tobacco is a ghost following him. The nicotine coats his teeth.

On an ocean, without Sanji beside him, Zoro is lost.

But Zoro has always managed to reach his destination, despite the periods of time he spends lost.

Zoro is lost, but he is never stationary. He is always moving forward.

When he finds Sanji on the other side, he’ll meet him proudly.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you read all the way, then  
> 1\. i am so sorry  
> 2\. aren't you glad this isn't canon though
> 
> NOW IS PROBABLY THE TIME TO GO READ SOME WHOLESOME FLUFF ;;


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